


Neither timid nor tame

by annabeth



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, M/M, Mild Language, POV Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 02:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10912152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/annabeth
Summary: It's the second to last day in Beijing, it's raining, and Yuuri's mood is about as gloomy as the weather.





	Neither timid nor tame

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Jupiter" by Jewel. Also this is ridiculously innocent. Like, idk what happened here. I'm always more porny or use worse language than this...
> 
> (Also: this is a for srs fic. I promise, no hidden punchlines this time!)
> 
> spoilers for 1x07 and 1x10.

It's Viktor and Yuuri's second-to-last day in Beijing, and a rainstorm has blown in, confining them to the hotel room. Viktor might have tried to drag Yuuri out somewhere, even despite the rain, but his protege is quiet and moody.

Viktor is leafing through a book of Russian poetry he brought with him while Yuuri sits cross-legged on the other bed, his chin in hand, staring out into the grey wet beyond the window.

Trying to pretend like he's not desperately wondering what Yuuri's thinking is _so_ not working. Viktor sighs and tosses the book aside. He'd bought it not long before he left for Hasetsu, and this is the first time he's tried to read it. He enjoys poetry, but this volume, which showed such promise when he bought it, now seems dry and unrefined. Boring.

Maybe because they are all poems on nature and the like, and what Viktor _feels_ , right now, is a fiery emotion that _wants_. He wants love poetry. He wants to read it to Yuuri and watch Yuuri's beautiful brown eyes widen as he realizes just how much Viktor—

It isn't raining very hard, just enough to patter against the window and the sides of the hotel, an unceasing noise that is beginning to worm into Viktor's head. Ordinarily he doesn't mind the sound of rain. It can be peaceful, even during a storm, when the sound of it against a building is a lash. But this rain reminds him too much of Yuuri's tears in the parking garage, when Viktor, like the idiot he's sometimes known to be, had shattered his heart on purpose.

As a skater, as a person, as _Viktor Nikiforov_ , he's many things. Yakov has complained, more than once, that Viktor doesn't take anything seriously. In most instances, this is true. But when Yuuri started crying… yes, Viktor passed his response off as a joke. But it's clear that, even though Yuuri had smiled up at him after his free skate was finished, there is something bothering him.

One more glance at the volume of poetry and Viktor realizes that, even if he had love poems, he'd have to translate them for Yuuri. There have been so many times when he wished he understood Japanese, just so he could be closer to his student. But this time he wishes that Yuuri understood Russian so that Viktor could lay his feelings out plainly and not be misunderstood.

How could Yuuri have been so surprised, when Viktor had all but announced his desire to kiss him? _Should I just kiss you or something?_

The words still echo in his ears, a poor English substitute.

Yuuri had smiled, lying with his back against the unforgiving ice. So what is going on in that anxiety-ridden brain of his now?

There is a sudden increase in the strength of the rain, and for a split second, Yuuri's eyes meet Viktor's in the glass of the window. Well, damn this. Like Viktor is going to sit here _one second longer_ and allow Yuuri to mope. Is that like him? No, no it is not.

"Yuuri…"

When he turns around to look at Viktor, his inky hair is still half slicked back from his skate. His eyes are large and luminous behind his glasses, and Viktor feels that stab somewhere in the vicinity of his heart again. Somehow this person, this _boy_ , has done what no one else ever could, and touched Viktor Nikiforov right where it hurts. Sure, he has loved many people in his life. But with people like Yakov or Yurio, it is not the same.

Only Yuuri has ever made Viktor's heart _yearn_.

"Viktor?" The question is soft, and oh, the way his name is held, like the most precious treasure, in Yuuri's mouth. He is the only one who says Viktor's name like that. Softening each syllable, making a harsh sound a smoother, quieter one. Viktor shivers, and it's not from the cool air of the rain.

"Tell me," Viktor says. They have been so close now. They communicate now more with gestures than words, and he knows this is all he has to utter for Yuuri to understand.

Yuuri's lashes sweep down, hiding his eyes, and he begins to pleat the blanket on the bed with nervous fingers. Viktor wants to grab that hand and still it; that poor heart and mind, always so anxious, even now, when there is no need to be.

"It's only me, yes? Your coach?"

"Is that all?" Yuuri asks, and his lids raise and his eyes are revealed once more. "My coach?"

"Yuuri." Viktor can't stand himself, or the way Yuuri fidgets. He hops down from the bed and crosses the room, kneeling in front of Yuuri's bed. Taking Yuuri's hands in his, he traces the veins, then closes them against his palms and holds them still. "Didn't I ask you once what you wanted me to be to you?"

"You did," Yuuri confirms, his gaze on their hands. Somehow, Viktor gets the impression that Yuuri is more overwhelmed by the way Viktor is cradling his hands than from the kiss earlier. "But… oh, Viktor. What were you thinking?"

Well, shouldn't that be obvious? Viktor lifts Yuuri's right hand up and kisses it, just below the knuckle of his right ring finger.

"Are you angry?" he asks, his lips moving against Yuuri's finger, still pressed there. "I know it was very public… have I stepped over a line?"

"N-no, that isn't it. Why? Why did you do it?" Yuuri's eyes are desperate, and his voice quavers. Does he really not know? He doesn't understand? Damn this English language, how is he supposed to…

"Because," Viktor says, letting Yuuri's hand drop back to his lap. "I—" The words won't come. Yuuri's young, and his heart is fragile. Viktor can't do that to him, not now. Not yet. Yuuri doesn't know that this throb of love in Viktor's heart was put there months ago, when a drunk, impassioned speech ripped right through Viktor's defenses. No, Yuuri is still… he's obviously not there yet. "—wanted to," Viktor finishes lamely, hoping Yuuri won't question the hesitation, the nearly fatal pause.

"To surprise me." Yuuri suddenly grabs for Viktor's hands, clutching at them like they're lifelines and Yuuri is falling. "Was that all? Was that it, Viktor, just a surprise?"

Now _Viktor_ is surprised. What is his Yuuri getting at?

"Viktor!" Yuuri's voice rises just a little, panicked, his eyes going round, his pulse racing in his fingertips. "What if I— What if I _wanted_ you to kiss me? Is that too… am I misreading things? You asked me… but I wasn't...."

Viktor pulls Yuuri's hands to his chest, directly over his heart, which is now beating as hard as the pouring rain outside.

"Yuuri, no, I wanted to. I kissed you because I _wanted_ to. I _still_ want to."

A smile blooms on those softened lips. Lips that are sweet and silky because of the chapstick Viktor put there. He wants to kiss Yuuri all day long, kiss him until his lips are chapped and swollen from _Viktor_.

"Kiss me, then," Yuuri whispers, and flattens his palm against Viktor's heart. "Don't surprise me this time. I want to… know it's coming."

"Ah, Yuuri," Viktor breathes, "you will be my undoing. I am, right now, going to kiss you. Are you ready?"

Those, long beautiful lashes hide Yuuri's eyes again. "Yes," he says, almost too soft to hear beneath the rain.

Viktor leans in, tilting his chin up, so he can reach Yuuri's mouth. Just before their lips touch, Viktor murmurs, in Russian, _I love you_.

Then they are kissing, and there are no more words, just the sound of the rain pinning them within a warm, gentle cocoon of each other's arms.

Just as Viktor lays Yuuri back against the mattress, one hand beneath his head, a spear of sunlight breaks through the clouds.

end.


End file.
